


Since Day One

by FlashFlashFlash



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Confessions, Fluff, Its 3 am, Love, M/M, Peterick, Sleepy Times, hella short, obviously not proofread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 18:17:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashFlashFlash/pseuds/FlashFlashFlash
Summary: Pete and Patrick have very different ideas about what the first time they met felt like. Patrick thinks he was appalled by Pete's rudeness and over-confidence, and Pete thinks that the second he stepped into that house, his world changed forever, schorched with the tears of a thousand singing angels.You might already be able to see that they're barrelling towards an adorably huge misunderstanding.





	Since Day One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! It's been a while! I've been working on my BBB fic all summer, trying to get everything just right, and so far I'm really happy with it, and I hope you all like it when it comes out. This fic is made up of a collection of different pieces that have been in the mixing bowl (but never quite the oven) for a while, now. Here they are, fully baked! 
> 
> Aminta x

The universe never meant for Pete and Patrick to get along. They were (and, it seemed in the beginning, always going to be) simply incompatible, jigsaw pieces that looked like they should fit together, yet instead lay crooked in the pain of each other's strangling grasp.

Pete was creepy, and that, first and foremost, was the reason that Patrick didn't trust him when they met. He rocked right up on Patrick's doorstep, waltzes right in, and carelessly kicked his shoes off, onto the rows that housed  Trisha's pumps, her Mary-Janes, and Patrick's various pairs of coloured Chuck Taylors. The beat-up trainers laid there, persistent and unmoving (this would have been a good moment for any secret telekinesis Patrick was harbouring to make a miraculous experience, but there was no great feat of impossibility). They laid there, a symbol, the first sign of Pete's inherent asshole-ishness. 

Pete waltzes into Patrick's house and abandons his shoes in exactly the same manner as he takes over Patrick's life and changes it forever. He does both with power and status, a precious soul, away with words surely given by the gods themselves, and, most importantly, love.

What. A. Dick. 

Patrick couldn't help but fall in love with him anyway. 

He tried to stop himself, he really did. He tugged on the cuffs of his argyle sweater, knocked his knees together underneath the hem of his shorts, and distracted himself with the motivation that if Pete left and he never wanted to see him again, he'd never need to see that god awful pair of bullied sneakers messing up his hallway again. It almost worked, really, truly, honestly, but God works in mysterious ways. 

Joe shrugged on his way in, left his own sneakers neatly on the edge of the doormat and muttered something about 'absolute genius, trust me'. Patrick only huffed in response, more than a little bit pissed off at Joe for having brought this idiot into his home,  and wondered how in the hell he was going to get rid of Pete. 

"Argyle? Really?

The universe never meant for them to get along, but God is omnipotent, and so He pushed them together so hard that they almost morphed into one giant, ugly person. Patrick never much liked the fact that it seemed as if he didn't have a choice but to love Pete, but he had always been a master of accepting his fate.

\---

"Pete, for fuck's sake-" Patrick takes a deep breath in to compose himself, giving his husband's body a hard shove back over to the other side (Pete's side) of the bed. "Stop waking me up in the middle of the night." 

"But, babe- okay, seriously, you love it, though." 

"Pete, you're not even making any sense," Patrick sighs, frustrated. The lamp on Pete's bedside cabinet switches on with a satisfying click, illuminating the sophistication of the master bedroom's grey-blue walls with a soft, buttery glow. As exasperated as he is, Patrick feels warm, comfortable next to Pete, and there's no other annoying idiot's bed he'd rather be in. 

"I'm just so happy, Patrick! You gotta share in this moment with me!" In his excitement, Pete scrabbles into a sitting position and crosses his legs, leaning back against the black, gloss-painted, oak headboard, hands braces on his knees and grinning wildly. Still horizontal and partially blind, Patrick looks blearily up at him, trying to decipher exactly what type of conversation this is about to be. He's left clueless, pointlessly trying to focus on features that he probably couldn't read even with his glasses on. 

"What moment? It's probably three AM! There's no moment to be had," Patrick makes a noise somewhere between a whine and a groan, pulling up the duvet over his shoulders as he rolls onto his side to face Pete. 

"There's always a moment to be had, 'Trick. You just gotta have the courage to discover it," Pete muses, reaching out to brush Patrick's hair out of his eyes. He sits silently afterwards, giving his best puppy-dog eyes, batting those lashes with enough speed he could take off if the wind was right, until Patrick caves and snuggles into his side, burying his head in between the sheets and the result of recent cake baking experiments (a middle rather a lot softer than usual).

"What's the moment tonight, then, Peter Panda?" He shuts his eyes and wraps his arm around Pete's waist. 

"It's the anniversary of the first time." 

"No, babe, that wasn't until, like December-"

"No, no, 'Trick, not that - um, it's-" Pete grins, barely able to contain his excitement, despite that fact that nobody can actually see him. "It's the anniversary of the first time I told you I loved you."

"I swear that wasn't until we'd fucked the first time," Patrick mumbles lazily. He's trying not to drop back off again but it's proving a little difficult. 

"You- you thought I was joking, just messing around- but it was supposed true. I loved you from day one, 'Trick." 

"I love you, too, babe," Patrick smiles and gives Pete a little squeeze. "I really do, even if you're annoying as fuck sometimes." 

"'Trick, seriously, I loved you before I even really knew you- I just saw you and- oh my God, it was like a thousand angels singing at once, or maybe just you a cappella, but, either way, it was amazing, and I haven't stopped thinking about you since. You're it, 'Trick, you're everything I ever wanted, and you're so much more. I'm so lucky to have you, because, with you, there's always a moment to be had- it's you that makes my life worth living! You're more than a person can or should be able to be... I love you." 

Patrick gazes blearily up at Pete in the half-light of theirs bedroom by night. He's in awe of his husband. Nothing can compare to how blissfully annoyed he feels in that moment, how good it feels to have Pete's heart beating against his chest. Patrick's never been the genius with words, and he admits that openly, but Pete makes a part of him want to try. 

"You're what it feels like to write a perfect melody, or get a run just right at the end of a song. Know that it is the greatest compliment I can give to tell you that you make me brave, and independent, and I need you more than anything, but you've made me a more resilient person just by being you." His face flushes red, and it's not very long before Pete gives him a quick(-ish) kiss to calm him down. 

"Nice," Pete breathes. "You'd make a half-decent lyricist, 'Trick." 

"Maybe, but I'll never be as good as you." 

"Obviously," Pete says in a long, drawn-out fashion. 

Needless to say, he earns a good slap.


End file.
